


Prince and The Pauper

by Alvyna_Vex



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blacksmith Keith, Falling In Love, M/M, Prince Lance (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-30 01:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13939857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alvyna_Vex/pseuds/Alvyna_Vex
Summary: A few days ago Shiro’s blacksmith shop “The Black Lion” received the request of a lifetime, to make a sword for the prince of Altea, and three days ago Shiro passed the request over to Keith.





	Prince and The Pauper

Keith was an ordinary blacksmith, he woke up and got ready, spent his entire day in a dark and hot shop working side by side with Shiro smiting weapons for various people in the kingdom. The usual stuff, armor, shields, daggers, and completely ordinary swords. The most out of the ordinary thing that usually happened was every once in a while, someone would have a special request for how they wanted the hilt designed, maybe something carved into the blade. And those special requests were always passed to Keith; Shiro was an excellent smith, probably the best in the kingdom, but he was a bit too clumsy when it came down to the finer details.  
Now however, Keith’s completely ordinary life was being turned upside down, seeing as he was now sitting in a much too lavish carriage that was heading to the palace of Altea so he could spend the next three months living as the prince’s shadow.This whole situation was all Shiro's fault. A few days ago, Shiro’s blacksmith shop “The Black Lion” received the request of a lifetime, to make a sword for the prince of Altea, and a few days ago Shiro passed the request over to Keith.

* * *

 

_Three days ago_

Palace guards rode up to the shop, polished steel of their chest plates gleaming and in the center, was the seal of Altea, their kingdom. The scene would have been intimidating, was intimidating, until the guards split and from their center emerged a comical looking man in no armor and sporting a very large orange mustache. The man slid off of his horse and walked forward to where Shiro and Keith stood and gave a slight bow.

My name is Coran,” the man said in greeting “I’m the Royal Advisor for Princess Allura, and Prince Lance of Altea.”

Shiro stepped forward to address Coran “We’re pleased to make your acquaintance, my name is Shiro, this is my assistant Keith,” at the mention of his name Keith nodded in acknowledgment “How may we help you?”

“Word of your shop has traveled to the castle, it’s said that you make the finest weapons in the kingdom,”

“I don’t know about the finest” Shiro chuckled, “but we do put a little of ourselves into every piece we make, would you like to come in and see our work?”

They led Coran inside and walked him around the front of the shop where they kept their weapons that were for sale. Keith stayed against the wall that led to the back of the store, still wary of the orange haired man. Coran walked around the store slowly observing every piece of weaponry they shop had to offer, from the daggers they sold to assassins and village women, to the swords they sold to dukes and soldiers. The man had seemed like a joke at first, but after watching him observe their weaponry, something told Keith he wasn’t to be taken lightly. Coran was just finishing up observing the wall of maces when Shiro spoke up, “Coran while it’s an honor to have a representative of the palace in our shop, I can’t imagine the palace bothering with a shop in the middle of the lesser quarters without there being a reason, rumors about our craftsmanship or not.”

Coran took a seat at one of the stools near the counter and took a deep breath before he spoke. “Prince Lance has sent out a commission for a new sword. We’ve traveled all over the continent and spoken with more blacksmiths than I can count, from the southern sea, to northern mountains. Of those that we’ve talked to a dozen swords have been brought to the prince, but none of them have satisfied him. We were beginning to give up hope, until we heard about your shop. Everyone that has purchased something from you claims that your work is the best weaponry they’ve ever carried. Not just in material, but even in the details you put into each one that you make, something a little personal to each individual that buys one. Our prince isn’t a bad man, he’s just extravagant with a large personality, and wants his sword to reflect who he is.”

Keith finally pulled himself from the wall and walked to where Coran sat before he spoke “Why exactly does the prince need a sword so bad? If you expect us to make his spoiled brat, because that’s exactly what it sounds like he is, a sword then I think we have the right to know why.” Shiro opened his mouth to reprimand Keith for speaking that way, but Coran put his hand up to stop him.

“The Prince turned seventeen this year, which means he has reached the age of requirement to compete in the Game of Princes.”

“The what?”

Coran took a deep breath preparing himself to explain “The Game of Princes, is an event that every prince over the age of 17 is required to compete in. Princes come from far and wide with a team of 4 others to compete against each other for the title of Paladin. Paladin is a higher title than any king can bestow, it’s said that those that win the Game of Princes get the blessings of the god Voltron, to honor the original paladins that assisted Voltron in saving the world thousands of years ago. The games only happen every 50 years, once in a lifetime, maybe twice if you’re lucky.”

Shiro leaned against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, the metal gleaming on the artificial hand that he had been given after his own trials of battle “I hadn’t realized it was already time for the games, they happen so far apart that you forget about them after a time.”

“Yes,” Coran nodded in agreement “So that is why I’m here. I would like to ask the Black Lion to create the sword for Altea’s crown prince to use in the Game of Princes”  
There was a pause before Shiro decided to speak “How long did it take for you to come up with that last bit?”

“A week”

Shiro threw his head back in a laugh at Corans honesty “Well at least you’re honest,” he said whipping the tears that leaked from his eyes “Before you decided if you want me to make the Prince’s sword, I’d like to show you a few more items, we don’t keep them on the floor because the smith that makes them doesn’t like to show them to anyone.” He said walking behind the counter and pulling out a large box.

“Shiro, don't!” Keith exclaimed realizing what Shiro was about to do, but it was already too late because Shiro had already removed the lid and Coran was already staring at amazement into the box. Keith put his head in his hand and sat down on one of the other stools at the counter.

Coran ran his hand over one of the dagger hilts engravings, before moving onto the next and lifting it from the box to observe the way the emeralds shined in the light streaming in from the windows and gently set it back into the box. “Who made these” he breathed.

Shiro smiled and gestured to Keith. “Our artisan of these weapons is sitting right next you, they were all made by Keith.”

Coran looked at Keith with wide eyes, “These are breathtaking, may I?” He said gesturing to the lone sword that laid in the box.

Keith shrugged and walked away from the counter, it wasn’t his to give permission for, he made it, but it wasn’t his.

Coran pulled out the blade and ran his fingers gently across the engravings that swirled down the center of the sword. Carved in the blade was the wildflowers that grew in the felids that surrounded the kingdom, each detail was wonderfully created, each petal had been carved with equal attention. Coran could almost see the colors of the fiery fields reflected in the blade, as if he was standing out in the sun looking at the field and not in a dark smith shop in the middle of the kingdom. As his gaze ran down the blade and met the hilt he saw the small pieces of amber, that had been placed in the top of the otherwise undecorated hilt, most would never think to add such a subtle detail when the rest of the blade was so elaborate, but the detail was made to add to the beauty of the engravings, instead of distracting from it. He’d never seen craftsmanship like this before, Keith had been able to put so much detail into the blade without taking anything away from its lethality.

Warily Keith watched from the window, he didn’t like to see when people looked at his work. Each of those weapons had taken him months to craft, and each one no matter how much work he put into it left him feeling incomplete. There was always one thing missing -

“What do you call it?”

And there it was, a name. Keith never named the blades he created. Most of the time, it was because it wasn’t his to name. Whenever he made a blade for someone he crafted it, and then immediately gave it to the person that bought it, therefore passing the duty of naming it off to the true owner. The daggers and sword in that box though, he had made those solely for the reason of wanting to create something. The emerald decorated dagger was inspired by the trees that grew in the forest, the gold hilted dagger in the box was inspired by the sun that shone across the rooftops of the kingdom, both had been created purely to remind him of those things. However, when he made the wildflower blade, that had been the first time he had felt so overcome to create that he had let it take over his life. Keith had spent countless days in the fields of wildflowers, sketching and re-sketching every different type of flower he saw down to the finest detail, he wanted to miss nothing in the fiery beauty of those flowers. He wanted to capture the beauty in a permanent way, so he used the most permanent medium available to him, steel. When he finished though, he only felt empty. The beauty was captured, but when it came time to name the blade he had nothing. It was his finest creation, the one he was most proud of. He had thought of plenty of names, but none of them seemed right, he had gone through countless names before he eventually got frustrated enough that he had thrown the sword in that box to gather dust. He had no right to wield a blade that he couldn’t even give a deserving name.

Keith walked over to where Coran and Shiro stood and lifted the blade gently from Corans hands “It doesn’t have one,” he said as he put it back in the box and closed the lid. Shiro placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder but he shrugged it off before putting the box back from where Shiro had pulled it.

Shiro’s eyes followed Keith’s movements as he put the box up and then again moved to stand far away from the two of them before turning his attention back to Coran. “So, while I’ll admit that I am a good smith, it sounds like what the Prince is looking for isn’t something I can offer. However, Keith’s blades” Keith whipped his head toward Shiro “sound exactly what he’s looking for.” Keith stood up and marched over to the two men to put an end to the conversation before it could go any further. “I can’t just make a blade like those, and you know it Shiro.” He turned to Coran “For me to make a blade like that I have to want to make it. Every last one of those pieces was inspired by something and took weeks of observing and drawing to even get a design for and then a couple more months to craft. I can’t just make one out of nothing. So, sorry, but I’m not your guy.” With this Keith took off towards the stairs so he could go up to his room. He stopped when Coran called out to him though “Wait! You said you have to be inspired, what if you came and lived at the castle until after the games? You could coexist with the prince, learn what he does, and observe him. Surely you’ll get inspired enough to create something that would suit him.”

“Let me get this straight you want me, a nobody black smith, to come live at the palace and follow the prince around like his lapdog, all just to see if I may or may not get inspired to make something for him to use in the most important contest of his life?” Coran nodded his head “You understand that I could follow this prince around for the rest of his life and never get inspired to make anything for him, right? All offense intended, but the prince doesn’t seem like my kind of guy. Entitled, loud, extravagant, I’m sure the list will go on once I meet him, nothing about him seems inspiring to me. Why should I even waste my time?”

Coran smiled at Keith from where he sat. “The prince is all those things, you’re not wrong. But he’s a great many other things as well. I could tell you them, but it’s better you see for yourself.” Coran stood up and walked over to Keith, “You’ll be cared for at the palace, and treated like a royal guest, you’ll want for nothing while you stay there and I’m sure will meet a great many people that will be useful to your future. As I see it, here you’re not doing much with your talents besides the bare minimum. What do you have to lose by coming to the palace, other than a few months of time? If at the end of three months you’re not able to craft anything special for the prince, then so be it, we’ll just have you make a simple blade and there will be no harm done. Trust me when I say this though, the prince is good man, and I have every bit of confidence that you’ll find something about him that inspires you.” Coran extended his hand towards Keith “So, what do you say?”

Keith looked wearily at Corans hand and then to Shiro holding on to one last thing that might get him out of this “What about the Black Lion? I can’t leave Shiro to do all the work by himself, we’ve been pretty busy lately,”

Shiro laughed at him before walking over and placing his hand on Keith’s shoulder “Keith I’ll be fine, this is an amazing opportunity, for you and the shop. I can handle a few months on my own, so stop looking for excuses to not go. Besides, we both know that there’s something here that’s missing, maybe you’ll find it there.”

Keith sighed before finally gripping Coran’s out stretched hand. “Fine, but don’t blame me when in three months the prince is whining about how bland his sword is.”

Coran smiled at Keith “Something tells me that, that won’t be a problem.”

For his own sanity Keith hoped Coran was right.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! I really hope that you enjoy this fic, I can't say how often it'll get updated, but I look forward to writing the rest of the story!!
> 
> Also, shoutout to Meg for being my beta <3


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